Sherlock Makes His Claim
by supremegreendragon
Summary: Sherlock managed to hide the fact that he's a werewolf for some time now. Until some Mary girl threatens to take John away. He has trouble controlling his desire to claim John as his own, who has no idea about his secret. Also features Vamp!Mystrade
1. Chapter 1

**Sherlock's POV**

I'm slump in my chair with my legs crossed and my chin resting on my fist. John's last text was 12 minutes 4 seconds ago, meaning he will be back soon. With milk.

Why is there nothing going on? Everything is so dreadfully boring! No unusual murders. I feel deflated. All the previous thrill I had experienced with Moriarty is now gone. Dead just like him.

My phone alerts me to a new text. When I go to look at it, I frown. It's from Mycroft. I would have deleted it like I do with all the others had I not noticed the context of the text.

_It will happen in three days. Hope you already knew that. Be prepared._

_-MH_

At least Mycroft is good for something. He can really be handy when it comes to the dates. I have managed to keep my secret from John for a long time because Mycroft keeps me updated.

I don't bother to reply to the text. John comes in and silently starts putting away the groceries.

"You can help me, you know?" he said without looking at me.

"No thanks."

John doesn't even bother to sigh. The chore is quickly completed and then John rewards himself with some tea. I'm not looking but I know that it's chamomile. That fresh smell is very easily recognizable.

But I don't care about smelling the tea bag. There is something about John's scent that bothers me. Perfume. Musk. And-

Sex.

"What were you up to?" I ask him, trying to keep calm.

"M?" John hums curiously as he sits down with his tea. He grabs the remote and turns the telly on.

I frown.

"Were you with a woman?" I press.

John pauses and looks at me. I note the hint of surprise on his face. He shakes his head incredulously.

"I don't know how you do that," he mutters to himself.

A woman had touched John. I feel the terrible urge to growl and mark John.

But John wouldn't like that. He wouldn't understand the display of affection I would be trying to show by doing that. He probably would just gag in disgust and run straight to the shower.

I lean back in my seat. I try not to show my anger.

"So, you managed to relieve some of your stress, I see. Hopefully she was clean?"

This earns me a glare from my best friend. I note that John's cheeks were turning pink. How adorable.

"It's none of your business but yes, she didn't have any diseases. Now can we please stop talking about this?" John sips at his tea with a bitter expression.

I allow it to be silent for a moment. But my jealousy gets the best of me.

"There are better ways to relieve yourself," I stated, "You can't just pick some prostitute off the street and-"

"For your information," John cuts me off very harshly, "Her name is Mary. And she is NOT a prostitute. We have been dating for weeks."

It's my turn to pause. I realize that I don't know nearly as much about John as I thought I did.

He's been dating someone for that long without my knowledge. A growl escapes my throat. John gives me a strange look when he hears it.

"I swear, you're acting like you're jealous."

I don't say anything back. Instead, I turn my back to him. This Mary is a threat. I will have to show John that I do not share.

**Lestrade's POV**

Ever since that nasty break-up with my wife (or, ex-wife), I have been living alone. It isn't too bad. I use to be a lot more lonely but now the night is a great time to socialize. I send Mycroft a text, asking if I can come over this evening. It isn't long until I get a response.

_Yes, of course, Gregory. When did you last feed?_

_-MH_

The sudden question catches me off guard. I tell him that it's been about a month. I know that he's going to try to convince me to drink soon.

_You know that I have some willing donors. Come over this evening._

_-MH_

I feel my face curl in disgust that people will willingly let others suck up their blood. Ever since I was forced into changing against my will, Mycroft found me and has been helping me. He loves me, I guess. Which would be nice except he never tells me that he does.

I put the phone away with a sigh. Are we even together? I can't tell if he considers himself my lover, master or simply a friend. Sometimes I wonder if I'm even in the friend zone. Maybe I'm just another lackey for him to utilize and keep under wraps. I really don't know since everything about him is confusing. He's especially confusing when he's kissing me senseless, only when no one else is watching though.

The fact that it wasn't a request to come over doesn't escape me, Mycroft has always been use to having his way. I know that he would have ordered me even if I didn't ask first. No wonder Sherlock gets upset with him.

Speaking of which, I guess a full moon is coming soon. I hope Sherlock will be ready. Before my change, I would've thought a vampire and a werewolf could never be brothers. Of course, I didn't believe in either before then.

I hope John will be okay...


	2. Chapter 2

**John's POV**

It's not that I don't appreciate the fact that Sherlock's jealous, in fact I sort of have a guilty pleasure in knowing it. It's more that this jealousy came way too late. Sherlock has known for some time now about my infatuation. I know because I confessed more than once.

But it never went anywhere. All he would ever say is that he had known before I told him. Then the discussion would reach its end. It's like Sherlock was avoiding how to answer. An actual rejection would be heartbreaking but at least it would be better than this guessing game Sherlock always plays.

Eventually, I decided to move on. I met someone named Mary and we ended up having a few drinks last night. One thing led to another and the night took on a pleasant turn. When I decided to come by with milk, I had no idea that Sherlock would be able to tell. I still can't figure out what tipped him off.

Now Sherlock is everywhere, demanding my attention constantly and insisting I stay in the flat with him. I humor him for a while. It's kind of funny, I'll admit. And as much of an ass as this makes me sound, I enjoy making him jealous like this.

But that's not why I got with Mary and it's no more fair to her than it is to Sherlock to keep this up. I decide that enough is enough. The sun is setting and I've been itching to get out of the flat all day. I stand up, noting Sherlock's eyes on me instantly.

"What are you doing?" he asks when I put on my coat.

"Going out," I mumble without looking at him.

A hand on my shoulder stops me from taking any more steps toward freedom. With a sinking heart, I turn to my roommate who is now frowning at me.

"With her?"

I nod, unable to trust my voice. Why is Sherlock doing this now of all times? If he was interested, why didn't he do anything about it? My head swarms with all the possibilities of what we could have been. It doesn't matter anymore.

It's time to tell him. To let him know that whatever feelings I use to have is now gone. It would be a lie, of course but I'll be damned to go back to playing that stupid guessing game.

"I'm going to the pub with her. We're just going to talk about our day," What am I doing? I don't need to explain msyelf! I shake my head, feeling ridiculous, "That's it, Sherlock. I'm leaving."

Sherlock's frown deepens, looking like something between a scowl and a snarl. I would have laugh if I had any humor left in me. But now all that is gone as I feel nothing short of anger at my friend.

Yet no matter how angry I am, it looks as though Sherlock is even angrier. He does another growl thing I heard from him this morning, his face contorting in rage. With a pressing grip, I feel the beginnings of pain in my shoulder.

But I refuse to let that faze me. I keep up my poker face in hopes to fool even Sherlock.

"But there's no reason for you to. I don't want you with her."

"It doesn't matter what you want or not. I want to," I reply in anger.

"No, you don't," Sherlock insists.

"What the bloody hell makes you the expert?" I try to throw off the grip but Sherlock is stronger than he looks. His hand doesn't even budge.

Sherlock licks his lips while trying to think of what to say. There's nothing more I want to do other than leave right now. Looking at Sherlock makes me both happy and sick at the same time. I know that if I don't leave now, I would fall for this man all over again.

It's too late now, I remind himself with a sinking heart. Sherlock made sure of that. Who cares whether or not Sherlock approves? He doesn't want to be in a relationship with me, I'm convinced of that. I am completely certain that Sherlock is afraid of losing a new toy and is now gripping at it like a stubborn toddler.

When Sherlock leans in for a kiss, I let out such a gasp that the idea is quickly aborted and Sherlock withdraws to look at me in shock. I try not to show the embarrassment to the taller man for fear of making the situation worse.

"Sherlock. I don't…" I stall.

What can I say now? Sherlock is playing a dangerous game when he toys with my heart like that. I'm even sure we could ever go back to being friends after this. My disgusted look must have had an affect on Sherlock since now I'm able to throw off the hand from his shoulder. My feet turn toward the door.

"I just don't know about you."

I leave soon after.

**Lestrade's POV**

Mycroft was right to worry about how long I have been stalling. It's recommended that vampires drink a pint every two weeks or else they risk getting weak.

I can't help but feel bad drinking blood that could've been used to save someone's life. There's also the fact that the whole concept still disgusts me on some level. A year being a vampire and I'm still not use to it.

Now the lack of blood is taking its toll and I realize while walking to Mycroft's house how much my body longs for substance. Vampires are only stronger than humans when properly fed. If they fail to humor their predator side enough to drink blood, they're no stronger than a baby lamb.

Like said lamb, I feel myself about to stumble and fall on my own feet at any time. I barely make it to the front door when someone rushes toward me. The man is a lot younger than I am, wearing the uniform that shows he works for the elder Holmes.

He also has a red ribbon on him, clearly indicating what he is. There is no need for conversation, I'm famished and no longer care enough to worry about guilt. The man opens his collar for me to feast on his bare collar bone. I take care not to seep in any poison or to drink more than I need to, feeling the blood restore strength like a strong pot of coffee.

The man must have had plenty of practice, for he recovers instantly, readjusting his collar and helping me up to my feet. After losing that much blood, I would think it would be the other way around. Where does Mycroft get these guys?

"Mr. Holmes is waiting inside for you, sir," the man says like nothing happened.

I'm too embarrassed to think about what had just transpired between say to say anything, so I simply nod and let the donor lead the way.

The heater in the house must be on high, which is good for those with cold, dead blood. We love the cold night air alright but when we were inside, we liked it as warm as it can be. Vampires are fickle creatures, I guess.

Mycroft is sitting down in a nice looking chair, reading a light novel with more speed than any human could manage. Or maybe that's just him. He is Mycroft Holmes, after all.

I silently sit down knowing that he's aware of my presence. The donor leaves us alone without showing any signs of weakness. It impressed me, to be honest.

With him gone, I turn my attention back to Mycroft. He puts away his book and looks at me half annoyed and half smug.

"I take it you already fed. I'm surprised you lasted this long."

"Only a month," I shrug, "I've heard of vampires holding out for longer than that."

"True but don't forget your rank. Your not a very strong vampire and you've only been changed a year ago."

It would have hurt had it been intended to be an insult. All Mycroft is doing is stating facts. For a vampire, I'm not very strong at all. A low level vampire was the one that turned me and I haven't bothered with trying to rise up in ranks.

Mycroft is a clan leader, the highest level. Just like he can order around humans, so he can with vampires. He must really like being in control for some reason.

I look at him, peering at his open neck area. Vampires tend to have a fetish for that area of skin and I know Mycroft had intended to show his neck off. I want to be bite him and claim him for my own, kissing and fucking him all the while.

Mycroft knows what I'm thinking, I can tell by the look in his eyes. He smiles.

"Well. I'm glad you've eaten at any rate. Just try not to push yourself so much. It's bad enough I have to play Mummy around Sherlock."

I jump him with a kiss. Satisfied that no one is watching, Mycroft returns the affections with zeal.


	3. Chapter 3

**Mycroft's POV**

I take in the older man's scent, humoring the thought of waking up like this every morning, with my arm around him and his head on my chest. He marked me last night but I know that my neck is already well on its way to recovery. Soon there will be no evidence of what happened last night.

I usually sleep in much later but Gregory energizes me in such a way that I don't feel the need. The detective inspector makes for a wonderful lover. His ex doesn't know what she lost, that much I'm certain.

But, of course. I cannot be his lover. I shift my thoughts in another direction.

In two days Sherlock will have to go out on the prowl. His kind has to obey the full moon and he needs to do the same, even at his level of self control. Once the moon calls, Sherlock would be forced into fur and go out to hunt, running with the other weres obeying the same instincts.

My eyes close with a sigh escaping my lips as I think about my little brother among those animals. Despite my usual rational self, I'm prone to resent every werewolf except my brother. I guess that's part of the reason vampires and wolves never got along. No matter how much logic we pride ourselves on having, we are still prone to bigotry.

It's just one night. I tell myself. And goodness knows that Sherlock is even less eager for it than I am. He hates indulging his wild side because, ironically, it makes him feel too human. Werewolves are messy eaters and I all but cringe as I think of him devouring flesh from bone of an unlucky prey. Oh, dear Lord, I hope he eats something that doesn't carry any rabies. It's silly of me to worry of such things but I can't help it.

My bed partner stirs in his sleep before waking up with a confuse groan. I can sense him surveying his surroundings and I imagine him trying to remember the events of last night. He sits up and looks at me with his smoky grey eyes.

"Good morning."

"Morning," I greet.

We sit in silence for a while, content to just lie there for a while, until Gregory decides to get out of bed completely. He rubs his hair.

"I have an appointment today."

"At that salon a few blocks from your house. Fred is the name of your barber, right? Is it just the usual trim?"

I smirk when he glares. He doesn't like me keeping tabs on him, thinking it's obsessive stalking on my part. What he doesn't realize is that I need to know these things for his own safety.

But the less he's aware of that, the better. I let him think what he wants, smiling at him as I force myself out of bed as well.

"It isn't for a few hours. Why not stay a while and have breakfast? A human one, of course."

Vampires don't need food other than blood but we still derive pleasure from the taste. Goodness knows I like cake every now and then. Almost as sweet as blood.

Gregory starts to put on his shirt, fiddling with his buttons.

"Sure. Thanks, Mycroft."

I frown when I sense some tension in the air. Gregory is deep in thought and I don't think I like where said thoughts are going. He looks up at me with a mind made up.

"Are we…together?"

He had never asked this question before and even though I have been expecting it, it doesn't make the blow cause any less shock. I had rehearsed what to say a million times and now I find myself unable to speak.

Seconds tick by as Gregory waits for an answer. The pleading look almost makes me tell him all my feelings for him. How he gets my heart pumping, my blood warm, my lungs short of breath and my nerves shot.

And my lips smiling. A true smile, which has been so rare over the course of my life.

"As clan leader, I'm to protect you. That's the rules." Why did I say that?

"But that doesn't answer my question. Unless clan leaders have some rule I don't know about when it comes to dating."

I give him a look that cause him to pause. He seems confused and slightly hurt. Such a look makes my heart feel as heavy as a boulder.

"Is there such a rule?" his voice is as soft as a whisper.

I want to shake my head but a thought crosses my mind. It would hurt him slightly less if I make a rule like that up. He wouldn't feel completely rejected and perhaps be forgiving enough to continue our love-making.

"Yes," I fib, "I'm afraid so. Clan leaders are not to mate with low level vamps."

It doesn't exactly sound like a painless lie but at least this way only feelings would be hurt.

His face is expressionless and even I can't read into it. He finishes with his clothes.

"So how about that breakfast?" he asks without sounding hurt at all.

**Sherlock's POV**

John never runs. It isn't his style, so last night's act of cowardliness confuses me.

And also worries me.

Did he sense there was something abnormal about me? While I was holding onto him, did he have an idea as to what I am? I shake my head of the thought. Of course he couldn't have. But then why did he run away?

I'm finding it harder and harder to keep my wolf side from searching for John and dragging him back here with my teeth. My fur is screaming at me to release it from my skin so that I can have an excuse to act like a wild animal.

With skill I manage to keep it under. The more I think about John with someone else, the harder it is for me to keep control. The day is coming soon for me to go out on a hunt under the full moon with other weres. It's both disgusting and invigorating how we go out for wild game and come back with bellies full of raw meat and bones that were in use not an hour prior.

The aftermath of the hunt is always the most painful because I am then faced with the realization that there's a part of me that I can't control. Mycroft keeps more tabs on me than usual, like he's wondering if I was injured in the last hunt and he wants to make sure I'm alright.

I would say that concern is displaced, except it isn't. There have been plenty of incidences where weres showed their dominance by fighting for food. If I am ever challenged myself, like hell I'm going to back down. Werewolves thrive on dominance.

Which is why now I'm growling through my tea as I think about John. Before he even comes through the door I could smell her on him. He enters without greeting or explanation of where he was all night, heading straight upstairs.

I let him go silently. This isn't going anywhere. I know that the more I hold on, the more John would want to leave. And if he tries to leave permanently...

A vision of an angry wolf enters my head that scares me for a second. I wouldn't actually hurt him, would I? Can my wild side really make me do that?

Suddenly I didn't want to drink the remains of my tea, so I set it on the table. John is going to scold me for not taking the extra steps to place the dirty cup in the sink but I don't care. As a matter of fact, I'm more than happy to have John decide to speak with me.

Now I'm at an impasse. It seems like I would need advice but I'm not going to ask Mycroft for help. I don't need his ego anymore inflated than it already is. So Lestrade would have to do. He should be sensible enough to think of an idea.

With that in mind, I put on my coat and rush out the door. I am informed at the yard that it's his day off, so I give him a call.

"Hello?" his voice tells me that he's upset over something. I hold in a snicker.

"So sorry that your time with my brother has been unpleasant. I need your help."

Lestrade doesn't bother to defend himself but I hear a bit of anger in his voice.

"What do you need?"

"It's John."

"John? Is there something wrong with him?" now the anger is gone and worry creeps in.

"No. It's…well he's gone and found another lover."

There is a pause.

"Oh, I see. You're upset and don't know what to do."

I nearly growl at the humor in his tone. Nothing about this is funny to me.

"My wild side is getting harder to control. I just want to claim him now."

"You can't! It would ruin you guys."

"Don't you think I know that?" damn, he's dense, "But my fur doesn't care. The wolf in me wants to claim John and now I'm having a hard time telling it no. I'm worried and I don't know what to do."

"Surely this happened to weres before? What did they do?"

"Claim and turned the one who made them feel like this."

I can almost hear both our hearts sinking at the same time.

"Then we need to figure out something. Come over to my place in an hour. I'm sort of getting my hair trimmed at the moment."

I agree easily.


End file.
